


At age's end

by Beleriandings



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Post-Last Alliance, Second Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 23:17:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11001057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: A grieving Elrond returns to Celebrían in Lórien after the fall of Gil-galad. [Prompt: Elrond/Celebrían, "there's blood on your hands"]





	At age's end

It was just before dawn and even in Lórien the night air still had a chill to it when the straggling party of soldiers came stumbling through the gates. Celebrían still came rushing out of the house though, pulling a shawl hurriedly around her shoulders; in her haste, she had forgotten to put on shoes, so she half slipped on the wooden stairs that arced their way around the silver-barked tree trunk. But she did not falter, catching her balance on the rail and fairly jumping down the final few steps to the ground. There was no time to waste, after all; the battle in the east had gone ill, and all sorts of rumours were flying around about what had happened. Her mother knew more than Celebrían did, and she knew Elrond was safe, _but even so_ …..

_Even so._ He might be approaching even now. Or he might not. She could sense him very faintly - her skill in ósanwe had never been as strong as her mother’s, but Elrond was a familiar enough presence that he was easy enough to find, to reach out to in troubled times, to reach back to when he did the same - but she needed to see for herself.

It might not be him, she reminded herself. He could have returned straight to Lindon. If it was true and the king really was dead, then there must surely be so much for his trusted herald to do that Elrond would not have the time to spare for such a detour. _Not unless something truly bad had happened, that would prevent him from travelling west to Lindon…. or perhaps he nowhere else in the whole world was safe._

Her mind was awhirl as she reached the bottom of the stairs, just in time to see the weary party of armed and armoured figures coming through the gates; they would have had to leave their horses at the border of the wood. Still, one of them carried a standard, and though it was tattered and torn - _were those burn marks?_ she wondered in alarm - its bearer carried it tall and proud still.  

_Its bearer…. the herald of the king_ …

Her face lit up, as she saw him turn away from where he was talking to her mother in hushed tones by the gate arch. Galadriel must have known they were coming before Celebrían had, for now she smiled a little sadly as Celebrían ran forward, laying a hand on her shoulder for a moment before she left them alone.

Celebrían took Elrond’s hands, staring up into his face in worry - he looked terrible, his face smudged and pale under the dirt, blood still caked in the crevices of his armour. At his elbow there was a great rent in his mail, where a rudimentary bandage made of a torn strip of what looked like someone’s cloak was darkened with drying blood. But it was his eyes that alarmed her most; they were wide and haunted, seeming to look almost through her as she gently took the standard from him - his fingers clasped it like it was all he had to cling to in the world - laid it carefully aside, took off his gloves and clasped both his hands in hers.

She stared up at the face she knew so well - and oh, how different he looked from those sunny days in Lindon, when she had first met him - and raised a hand, brushing his cheek. “It’s true then?” she said. “The alliance fell? The battle is lost?”

“………Not lost” said Elrond hastily, breathing too quickly. “These lands should be safe. For now, at least. Sauron is defeated, but….” he shook his head, swallowing and looking stricken. “The cost was…. very high.”

“It’s true? The king is dead, then?” Her heart contracted; she had never been that close with Gil-galad, but he had been Elrond’s greatest friend in the world. _And he had lost so much already_ ….  

He nodded, tears starting in his eyes, though he was obviously trying to fight them back. “He died fighting, but…. Celebrían, it was…. it was so….. he should have lived…. what can we do now without him? What will Middle Earth do without him?”

Celebrían said nothing; she did not know. Instead she merely threw her arms around him, letting him lean his head on her shoulder. When she raised her arms up to encircle him, she felt his body shudder with silent sobs. “I don’t know, Elrond” she whispered into his hair; it smelled of blood and smoke, but he was reassuringly solid, real and above all _alive_. “I don’t know.”

After a while, he drew back, taking a deep, steadying breath that nevertheless shook a little. “My time here will be short, I fear” he said, touching her cheek. “I will need to talk with your mother about how best to proceed, then I must get back to Lindon, to….” he swallowed. “See to things there. Círdan awaits me. But I…..” he bunched their hands together, his face flushing a little under the dirt. “I volunteered to bring the news to Lórien, so that I could see you.”

Celebrían felt her heart leap despite herself, smiling through the tears that were starting in her own eyes, even as she wiped a tear from his cheek with a thumb. “Thank you” she said, and meant it. “Knowing that you are safe…. that is….. enough for me now.”

He nodded, a small frown making a little crease between his eyes. “There’s blood on your hands” he said, raising their joined hands between them. Indeed, the grimy mixture of blood, dirt, soot and the sweat of several days’ travel that coated his own clothes had come off on her hands, staining the ends of her sleeves. “It’s… my fault.” He looked appalled, staring down at himself. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this…”

“Elrond.” She laid a finger on his parted lips, stilling his words and making him look at her with wide, vulnerable eyes. “I don’t mind. It’s me. You don’t have to pretend with me, you know.” She turned his face by the chin so that he was looking into her eyes. “Remember what we said? We said…. some day, after….” she grimaced. “After…. all of this…. we’d be married.” She stroked his cheek. “I’m just glad you returned to me.”

He nodded, overwhelmed tears in his eyes again, and did not draw back as she raised her head and kissed him, arms going about his neck. He leaned into the embrace, as though it was the only thing grounding him at that moment. Perhaps it was.

After a while, they drew back, and Celebrían took his hands once more. “Come on” she said. “It’s been a long journey, but you can rest now.”

He nodded, letting her lead him by the hand towards the trees. “For a little while, at least.”

 


End file.
